Episode 1

Episode 1: The Hard Case of the Cased Out Case Factory is HARD

Fishman is eating lunch. He has pastrami. Fisherman approaches and asks if Fishman would like to eat lunch with him. Fisherman has caught fish to eat. Fishman agrees, but really it's only because he likes to see if anyone he knows has been caught. Anyone from his previous life in the ocean as a full time fish. Those days are long behind him now. Or so he thought...

A fish then leapt out of a nearby creek screaming "I hunger for chocolate!"

Naturally, Fisherman was startled by this for multiple reasons. First of all, he is used to fish avoiding his company at all costs, as he is genetically compelled to both catch and eat them. Secondly, fish cannot speak. He is confounded by this!

However, Fishman knows all too well that not only can fish speak, but that this fish hungering for chocolate is none other than Sir Ronald Chocaber, and he can speak because he is no fish! He is a man that has had extensive surgery to survive in marine conditions. His reasons for doing so are enigmatic at best. Unfortunately a side effect of the surgery is a severe hunger for chocolate, the primary fuel for his artifical gills.

But Fisherman knows none of this. So he just totally flips out. He drops the spoon he was planning on eating his fish with and it gets really dirty. Fisherman doesn't notice because he is still flipping out. He's like picking up handfuls of dirt and leaves and throwing them in the air and making sounds like a bird does when it's really happy but it has a throat cold.

So yeah, after things have calmed down a bit the Fisherman gets himself together and asks Ronald what kind of chocolate he'd like. Ronald wants a certain kind of chocolate, see, and he knows there is a shipment of it being kept in the old Case factory, owned by the late Mr. H. Case Doherty Simon Sr. Esq. Jr. Donaldface.

(Fishermans motive is believing that if he can befriend a talking fish he may be able to coax the location of the fabled UNDERWATER FISH TRUCK STOP out of him and go there to fish for infinity fish, of course not realising that Ronald doesn't know the location of it.)

A committee was formed to discuss a plan on how to case out the Case factory, and on the committee was Fisherman, Fishman, Ronald and Jim Jub. Jim Jub somehow made it on to all committees, he was just one of those people. Once everyone had woken up and showered they met at Jim Jubs house because Jim Jub had enough chairs to seat everyone, and a bath big enough to place Ronald in. So the meeting was held in the bathroom. This meant the couches were very close together and everyone had to be careful that their knees and feet didn't touch because then they'd feel a little bit uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Ronald brought an Arnotts Assorted Creams pack. He'd bought it from Woolworths. They do home deliveries now if you order over the internet so he has them dropped off by the pier. When he opens them though, he's in the bathtub and they all get wet from the water because the water is a bit moist. He probably should have used drier water. Maybe he should have brought some sort of soup. He could have dissolved that into the bathwater and just sipped on it while they chatted. It'd all be good as long as he didn't empty the entire tub, but then if he did he'd be a very fat fish and Rennaisance men would lust after him for his wealthy plumpness.

Meanwhile, Ronald missed the actual goings-on at the committee discussion. Not wanting to look the fool, he just rolled with it and hoped he could just fool everyone in to thinking he was listening. He bluffed his way through most of life this way anyway, particulary when it came to being a fish. As everyone was leaving, Fisherman made sure they all knew to meet back up at the case factory at midnight that night. Jim Jub didn't understand what a meat back was. Fishman had to explain it was M-E-E-T not M-E-A-T. Confusion all round!


FADE TO BLACK


FADE UP TO EXT. CASE FACTORY, MIDNIGHT

The moon is at three-quarters, and it cast it's dim silvery glow down over the factory and the four conspirators gathered at it's perimeter. The soft red glow emnating from the warm embers stuffed into Fishermans pipe cast a menacing glow against his weathered face, and it's cast shadows created a detailed relief map of his grizzled features. Gripping the stem of his pipe firmly between the molars on the left side of his jaw and let the right side of his mouth growl out a series of consonants and vowels. These consonants and vowels coincidentally fomed words which one could have mistaken for a sentence, although given the fact they formed the words "Portly hands on my sweet potatos." you'd have to stretch the imagination pretty thin in all directions to actually believe that was a sentence he legitimately intended to come out of his mouth. You're an idiot for even considering that he meant to say that.

Maybe he just has tourettes.

At any rate, Ronald wasn't sure if this was related to something they'd discussed at the meeting or not, since he hadn't listened to what was being said. Thinking fast, he worked on the assmption that this was some sort of signal to assault the case factory. Gulping up as much water as he could contain within him, he released it all at the ground to launch himself at the window of the case factory. He stiffened himself up as he hit the window, to ensure that he broke it rather than just slap against it like a fish theoretically should.

Jim Jub, Fisherman and Fishman watched on in moderate surprise. They were all still a litte bemused at Fishermans outburst earlier so they really didn't have it in them to be as surprised at the sudden fish siege as they probably should be. The sound of shattered glass rang out clear in the night, and through the now ragged curtains that once covered the window flashes of light could be made out. Surprised cackles echoed out from within the case factory.

"Cackling case factory workers..." pondered Fishman. He knew that this was not standard practice for those who dabbled in the design or construction of cases. In fact, cackling was the trademark call of...

"Witches." Fisherman let the two syllables escape between the half of his mouth not caught up in the act of clenching, "My bet is an illegal biscuit factory."

Fisherman and Fishman exchanged sideways glances at each other.They'd seen this kind of thing before. They knew what to expect. They began their slow motion walk toward the large wooden double doors of the case factory. Jim Jub, on the other hand, was new to this, and he set off at a normal walking pace toward the door. After he'd gained a couple of meters on his cohorts he realised his error and backed up a bit and together they proceeded to execute the Triple Slow-Mo Entrance.
Somewhere off to their right or left, depending which direction you are looking at them from, the sound of some badass drums kicks in, accompanied by a slow buildup of guitar that culminates in a mad bit of electric guitar wailing. It's all really, really badass. Everyone is super impressed or they would be if there was anyone else there. Which there in't. Although the witches may be a little bit impressed, but they wouldn't show it. They're too cool to let it show.

INT. CASE/BISCUIT FACTORY, FIFTY-SEVEN SECONDS EARLIER

The case factory is a large, old styled warehouse. Tall, thick wooden support beams stretch up to a ceiling that exists somewhere in the gloom that the feeble light provided by the gas lamps and witches cauldrons cannot pierce. Gathered around the cauldrons are small covens of witches of various varieties, stirring away at their illegal biscuit mixes. Plumes of steam stretch up from each cauldron to presumably gather somewhere in the cavernous gloom above before escaping through narrow cracks and gaps in the poorly constructed ceiling.

Almost complete silence is broken only occasionaly by a quiet cackle and constantly underlined with the gentle bubbling of the cauldrons. It's pretty much like being in a library. That would have been a much easier and more succinct way to describe it all, really.

Glass shattering breaks the serene scene, as Ronald smashes through one of the high-set windows leavnig a trail of expelled water behind him. He lands with a noisy splash in a cauldron, upsettnig all but one of the six witches surrounding it, who all let out surprised cackles. The sixth witch is a bit of a wild card though, and the first thought to cross her mind is what wonderous effects on the taste and texture of their illegal biscuit mix this self-propelled fish will have. As Ronald surfaces and reveals that he has a human face, she becomes even more intrigued about whta implications this will have on the biscuit industry in general. This could be monumental!

So it turns out Ronald has a bit of a vendetta against witches. Apon realising what he has just cast himself in to, he feels overcome with rage. Face contorting into a rictus of rage, he begins spitting out the M&M's he has stored in a special gland he had added in during his man-to-fish surgery. With deadly accuracy and a complete disregard for hygeine, he lands M&M after M&M right down the throats of the five cackling witches, causing them each to choke on the tasty confectionary. Gathering in for another launch, he propels himself out of the cauldron at the wild card witch, who fortunately ducks just in time. Ronald has put a bit of a spin on this launch, you see, and would have totally gouged his way right through the witch had she been a fraction slower.

Unfortunately for the witch standing by the cauldron he'd propelled himself at, she was not fast enough to move from his path. Punching a hole clear through the back of her head, he lands with a savage plop in the delicious biscuit mix cauldron.

All of this has transpired in less than a minute, and it is in to this scene that the remaining crew bust through the wooden double doors in slow motion. The wood splinters under the heel of Fishermans clompy fish-proof boots and showers nearby witches in a deadly hail of really irritating splinters. It's gonna take them ages to pick them all out with a tweezer, especially the ones that kind of get right under the skin and have to be coaxed out without breaking the splinter into smaller pieces. Unless one of them knows some sort of splinter disintegration spell, that'd be handy right now, but how often would you use that?

Fishman twirls his moustache and winks.

Jim Jub is totally milking the slow motion for all it's worth now, and he's still rockin' it all the way up to a coven of witches. They're all a little perplexed as to why he isn't just approaching at normal speed, and now everyone secretly thinks he's being just a little bit lame because he starts throwing a punch in slow motion through the smoke of the cauldron. It looks cool and all that, but it's really easy for the witches to dodge.

Fishman saunters on over to the sole survivor of the intial attack, the Wild Card Witch, and greets her with a gentlemanly "Good evening!" and he tips his hat. Imagine that.

Ronald is furiously burrowing his way out of a witches skull, and right into the terrified mouth of a nearby witch. Swimming down her throat and into her lungs, he bursts out through her back, howling like a Wookie and slamming headfirst into his next victim.

Fishman is deep in conversation with Wild Card Witch, they are both gesturing enthusiastically and are getting along like two  fish in a pond, which is apt as one of them is a fish, albeit not one in a pond.

Fisherman is still standing in the shattered doorway, firing really intense glares around the place and puffing away on his pipe, just kind of being a general badass.

"Oh my!" exclaims Fishman, "So sorry!"

In his chat with Wild Card Witch he's discovered these are in fact SPACE witches! That changes everything! He quickly lets Jim Jub and Fiserman know, since neither of them are currently under a berserker rage. Fisherman is left to deal with calming Ronald down, since he has the most experience working with fish and is a bit of a scary mo-fo in his own right. He shuffles on over to where Ronald is swimming around in the cavity of what once was a witches chest, shoulders hunched in the way only a man raised on the open sea in the teeth of the storm instinctively does.

"Ronald." the two syllables split the air around the berserk manfish, the low pitch resonating somewhere within his fracture psyche and making contact with the man buried deep below the layers of berserk fish rage. His mind swimming up through the red blood haze, Ronalds eyes clear and he gurgles out a response through a moutfull of witch blood, M&M's and confetti.

"Fisherman, sup?"

"These are Space Witches man, not normal Witches. Just chill bro."

"Oh, oh. Ohhhh..." Ronald turns toward the witch whose chest he currently resides in, "Hey, sorry yeah? I thought you were a witch. I gots MAD BEEF with witches."

The Space Witch lifts her head and says, "No prob!"

Space Witches are notoriously mild tempered.


----------------------EPILOGUE----------------------


Jim Jub, Ronald, Fisherman, Fishman and Wild Card Witch have all hit the pub. Wild Card Witch knows some pretty good cocktails, and she's imparting her beverage smarts apon the staff at the pub. Being a fishing town, they have only a limited selection of products to work with, and no fruit, so they've had to make do with the local ingredients on hand. Potato, mushrooms, fish scales and the like.

They turn out surprisingly well. Wild Card Witch is just like that, you know. Always surprising people.

The rest of the Space Witches are recovering from the nights frivolties, having procured a case of high quality Colin to help them recover.

"Well, fellahs, it seems we've learned a few lessons today. I've learned that Space Witches are good sports." Fishman chuckles around mouthfulls of Yam Delight cocktail.

"I've learned that Ronald can fire M&M's with pinpoint accuracy!" chimed in Jim Jub.

"I've learned that Space Witches contain a surprising volume of blood!" remarked Ronald.

"I've learned that I never learn anything. Although I suppose that means I did learn something." Wild Card Witch pondered.

Fisherman said "FUCK."



   THE END